


Marching Inland

by Exdraghunt



Series: TUGS [5]
Category: TUGS (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of being a major shipping hub, the heyday of Bigg City has come and gone. Zero Marine and Star Tug and Marine have both gone out of business. Fortunately the tugs that remain have found a buyer, but it will be a long trip to the coast of Britain to make it to their new owner. Eventual crossover with Thomas and Friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A crossover between Thomas and TUGS was inevitable, but it took me a little while to figure it out. TUGS is set in the 1920's, and Thomas (apparently?) is set in the 1970's. This fic fits in with both my TUGS and my Thomas AU universes and ties the two together. 
> 
> Pairings and characters/fandoms will be updated as I write and I get a better idea of where this fic will go.

In the 1920’s, Bigg City had been a major shipping port on the coast of the United States. Hundreds of ships, from tramp steamers to ocean liners to tiny shrimpers, came and went every day to load and unload their goods. And those ships were served by a fleet of humble tugboats.

As the decades passed, mud carried down the rivers slowly began to silt in Bigg City harbor. Shipping diverted to other, more attractive ports. Closer to famous cities and transportation hubs. The heyday of Bigg City had gone by, and with it the great tugboat companies had declined.

In the name of efficiency, steam had also seen its heyday come and past. Nearly all steamships had been either dieselized or scrapped to be replaced with diesel ships. At the same time, though no one was quite sure if there was a direct correlation, fewer and fewer new ships came to life. The public didn’t pay much attention, but those few living ships that still worked were quite aware of the loss of so many of their kind.

One of the few things that had not changed through the years was Star Tug and Marine. The tugboat company still operated with their original, steam powered fleet delivering supply barges and helping bring in larger ships. Captain Star had given some thought to dieselizing the tugs, back when it became clear that steam was going the way of the dinosaur. Captain Zero, always looking for an edge over his main competitor, had immediately sent off several of his fleet to have their steam engines removed and diesels installed.

No one could have known exactly what such a radical rebuild would do to living ships. Nearly all experienced some change, losing memories or even undergoing extreme personality alterations. A few didn’t survive the process, becoming lifeless vessels requiring a human crew. And so the Star fleet remained steam powered, because Captain Star didn’t have the heart to put his boys through that kind of procedure. Even if it could have saved the company.

When Captain Star retired, his son Triton Star did everything he could to try and keep the Star Tug company going. But eventually, it became clear that things were not meant to be. A fleet of steam tugboats were just too expensive to keep turning a profit, and Bigg City wasn’t receiving anywhere near the number of cargo ships it used to. Modern cargo ships had become far too large to be processed in the port’s tight quarters.

It was with a heavy heart one morning when Triton Star called together his tugs for a meeting. None of them had worked in several weeks. In the case of OJ, the oldest tug, there had been no jobs for months.

“Good morning Stars.” Triton tried to force some cheer into his voice, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Thank you, for your years of hard service. I’m sorry to say that Star Tug and Marine is no more.”

Murmurs of discontent from the gathered tugs, who knew what fate befell ships that no longer had work to do. It would be the breakers yard for them, for sure.

“Diesel engines have made sure that we can no longer turn a profit with steam, at least here in Bigg City. Thus, you all will be moving to a new home next week.” Triton had spent weeks making phone calls and sending letters, trying to find some willing buyer for his tugs to keep them out of the scrapyard. And, miracle of miracles, he had finally found one.

“You mean we ain’t getting’ scrapped?” Ten Cents exclaimed, almost afraid to hope. “Uh. Sir? We’re goin’ somewhere else?”

“That’s right, Ten Cents.” Triton allowed himself a tired smile. “There is a place where shipping is still done almost entirely by steam. And, apparently, they are realizing a need for strong, hardworking tugboats to manage their harbors. There is also a maritime museum that has expressed interest in OJ, as well as Lillie. I was fortunate to find a buyer willing to keep all of you together.”

That was great news indeed. The Star Tugs were like family, having worked and lived together for many decades, and separating them out would’ve been a terrible blow. Hercules was also particularly happy to hear Lillie would be preserved as well. The lightship was a good friend of his, and she had been retired the year before by the Coast Guard when her station had been replaced by a lighted bouy.

“Where will we be going, sir?” OJ spoke up. It was no surprise to the old steamer that he was headed for a museum, but it was at least better than being ripped apart at the breakers yard. And if his family was there too, then maybe a sedentary life being visited by humans wouldn’t be too bad.

“It’s a place called Brendam Bay, on the island of Sodor off the coast of Britain.”

“Britain?!” The tugboats all chorused. Europe seemed like an impossible distance away, and across the vast Atlantic ocean. Hercules had visited the country once, and OJ had originally been built there many years before, but to the rest it was almost like a fictional place.

It would be a very long, hard journey, and Triton regretted having to send them so far. But it was either that, or separate them and sell them to the highest bidder. At least this way, they would all get to stay together.

 

Over the course of the next couple weeks, everyone prepared for the long journey ahead. Hercules went up to the coast to pick up an automobile ferry that had apparently also been purchased and would be making the trip with them, while the others went to Lucky’s Yard to have their engines looked over and make sure they’d be up for the Atlantic crossing.

Not all the tugs would be making the trip under their own power, though. It would be far too dangerous for small harbor switchers like Ten Cents and Sunshine to try and tackle the open ocean, so they would be travelling in a floating dry-dock pulled behind one of the other tugs. With Hercules busy, it fell to Big Mac to retrieve the dry-dock and bring it back to Bigg City so it could be prepped.

“So we’re gonna be riding in that?” Sunshine looked up at the large dry-dock dubiously. “I got a perfectly good engine, why can’t me n’ Ten Cents make the trip ourselves?”

“You know why, Sunshine.” Triton Star addressed his tug from the end of the dock, rather than from his usual place in the office. He could understand why the switcher was uneasy, being in the dry-dock meant that Sunshine and Ten Cents would be completely helpless and reliant on the one towing them, but it didn’t change the fact that ocean travel was extremely dangerous for small craft like the harbor switchers. And besides that, having two tugs go under tow would help save fuel for the others.

“Sometimes I hate being a little tug.” Sunshine muttered, leaving to help Ten Cents marshall some coal barges for the trip.

Triton shook his head fondly and went back up to the office to finish up the last bits of paperwork. He also had to pack up all his things, the new occupant of the building would start moving in next month and everything had to go. There were years and years of records, old contracts, and newspaper clippings to box up. It would take days to sort through what could be kept and what had to go.

There were still a few final things to sort out with the sale and cross-Atlantic trip. He had signed off on the arrival of the dry-dock, and it seemed like they would have no problem getting enough coal to last the length of the journey. Hercules had been converted to oil-burning years before, but he had large enough fuel tanks to easily make the crossing so at least they wouldn’t have to try and tow around a barge of Bunker C.

Looking out across the harbor, Triton could see a large tug coming into port with a sleek silver shape in tow. Good, that was Hercules with the auto ferry. And right on time. Another item to check off the list.

 

Warrior was making his way back to the Star Dock with Lillie in tow when he heard a familiar whistle sound. The harbor tug slowed, intending to greet his crew-mate, but couldn’t manage to make a sound when he saw what Hercules was towing. Instead, he just gaped.

“Hello, Warrior.” Hercules chuckled with amusement when he saw the expression on the other tug’s face. “This is Kalakala, she’s coming to Britain with us.”

“Uh. N-nice to meet you miss Kalakala.” Warrior stuttered a greeting. The ferry was like nothing he’d seen before, sleek and streamlined with silver steel plating. She looked more like some kind of airliner than a ship.

“Same to you, Warrior.” The ferry spoke softly before looking away back over the water.

“So, uh. You also coming to Britain then?” Warrior gamely attempted to make conversation as they travelled back towards the Star dock.

“Apparently,” Kalakala’s voice turned bitter. “50 years hard work on the Bainbridge route and they just throw me away to some foreign owner. To think, I was once considered state of the art! Famous! Alta klaska mamook mahish naika kahkwa cultus itkas!”

The ferry lapsed into angry mutterings in a language neither tug knew. Clearly, someone hadn’t been coping well with her sale to a new owner in a new land. The tugs weren’t particularly happy about it either, but they all understood that at this point the only other choice was the scrap yard.

With Kalakala moored at the end of the pier like a great silver ghost, all the Star Tugs settled back down at their usual slips. Tomorrow morning, they would leave for Britain. Tomorrow would be the last time they saw Bigg City.

Triton walked down the dock to check in with Kalakala and make sure all the ferry’s paperwork was in order; then turned to address his tugs. They had the dry-dock, plenty of the coal to make the trip, and the auto ferry that needed delivering. There were just two more things they needed to be ready, and Triton knew the Star Tugs wouldn’t like either one.

“Good job, Stars.” Triton gave a tired smile. “Now, there are just two more things you all need to know before tomorrow. The first is that two more tugs will be joining your trip, as they have also been purchased by the same man who is buying you. They will be meeting us tomorrow morning just before we leave.”

Exciting murmurs from the gathered tugs, wondering just who would be joining them for the journey. There were many guesses, old friends and acquaintances from across the world, but without any clues the two mystery guests could be anyone.

“You’ll find out who it is tomorrow, I promise.” Triton quieted them down with a wave, “And the other announcement is that all ships making the journey under their own power will be required to carry a full human crew.”

This time, the sounds from the tugs were ones of outrage. In all their years of operation, living ships had never been required to carry a crew.

“I know, I know.” Triton raised his hands for silence, but the tug’s voices overpowered his. “QUIET.”

That shut them up, though their expressions said quite a lot as they looked back at him.

“Now, I know all of you are unhappy with this announcement. But, I’m sure you’re also all aware of new Coast Guard regulations concerning living ships. Any ship on the open ocean is required to carry a full human crew, living or not, and that includes you all.” Triton hadn’t been pleased to find out about the new ruling either, since it meant hiring and paying a human crew. But they couldn’t risk having the entire trip shut down by the Coast Guard.

More unhappy grumbling, this about the competence of the Coast Guard and the unfair new requirements. There was nothing they could do about it, and that was the worst part.

 

The next morning, the Star tugs awoke as usual and lit their fires for the morning. As steam began to rise, a large group of humans came down the dock with rucksacks slung over their shoulders. The tugboat crews had arrived.

As the tugboats watched warily, Triton took the humans aside to have a quick chat. He had worked hard and called in a lot of connections to get crews that had worked on living ships before. Hopefully, that would help prevent conflict between the boats and humans.

“Now, you men have all served on living ships. Tugboats, especially, value their autonomy. All of my tugs have been told to listen to and respect their crews, and I expect you all to extend them the same courtesy. I don’t want any fighting between boats and crews, alright?

“We’ve got four boats going out under steam on this trip. There’s Hercules, Warrior, Big Mac, and Top Hat. Each of you has their assignments, go ahead and get aboard.” Triton watched nervously as the men continued down the dock to meet their ships. His number one concern, beyond a freak storm or some natural disaster, was that the crews and the ships would grow antagonistic towards each other on the long voyage. He trusted Hercules and Big Mac to deal with the humans responsibly, but Triton didn’t have quite as much faith in Warrior or especially Top Hat. Because of this Triton would be making the trip as well, Captaining Hercules himself.

As the crews got settled, everyone was reminded of their assignments. No one was going empty, everyone had a tow to care for. Hercules, the largest and strongest tugboat, would be taking Kalakala the auto ferry in tow, while the second strongest, Big Mac, had been charged with the care of the dry-dock carrying Ten Cents and Sunshine. A pair of coal barges would be taken by Warrior to ensure the coal-burners had plenty of fuel, and Top Hat had been given a railway barge with several retired passenger cars on their way to the Island of Sodor.

There was some conflict when the crews and the tugs briefly struggled over who would be handling the lines. Tugboats were self-reliant to a fault and didn’t trust the skills of the human crews, but after a few quick words from Triton agreed to allow the hired crews to assist them in tying up to their tows. Not before several sailors were smacked with lines moving on their own, though.

Now, they just had to wait for the two visiting tugs to arrive in order to take OJ and Lillie Lightship. Everyone was on alert, scanning the harbor for incoming tugs, when a whistle floated across the bay that none of them had heard in many years. And, unfortunately, it wasn’t an entirely welcome one.

“Zebedee?” The Stars gasped at the sight of one of their old Z-stack rivals. Though he now wore the green and white livery of a Foss company tug, Zebedee was still quite recognizable with his black fedora and Zero-patent scowl.

“Star-stacks.” The other tug greeted grudgingly. Zero Marine hadn’t existed in years, the company having dissolved about twenty years before when Captain Zero disappeared mysteriously one night, but old rivalries died hard.

Zebedee pulled alongside OJ and the humans on the ex Z-stack’s deck threw on a few lines. “Lets’ be clear that I don’t want to do this anymore than you like it. But that’s orders.”

“Why are we lettin’ that Z-stack take OJ?” Ten Cents spat from his place in the dry-dock, angry that he could do nothing but watch. “Can’t Zebedee take coal barges or something?”

“It’s alright, lad. We must obey Captain Star’s orders.” OJ said tiredly. The old, ingrained anti Zero part of his mind balked at the thought of being Zebedee’s tow, but OJ understood that there were far too few of their kind left to let themselves be divided by old company lines. From the glares of the other Star tugs, though, it was clear not everyone felt that way. At the very least, Zebedee had been the least arrogant of the Z-stacks and had at least once shown himself to be willing to assist his rivals. If any of the Zero’s had to show up, might as well have been him.

 

Unfortunately, Zebedee wasn’t the only Z-stack coming along on this trip. With a harsh blast of a diesel horn, none other than Zorran arrived at the Star pier. The harbor tug had been dieselized years before, but his unpleasant personality had somehow persevered. His shape was somewhat altered, but his colors had remained unchanged. The only real difference was that the old “O” on his stack had been replaced by the bold white “M” of the Moran company.

“Well, well, well. Just like old times, innit?” Zorran smirked as he drifted to a halt. Lillie was rafted up alongside him, looking slightly uneasy but otherwise okay.

“Morning, Zorran.” Hercules spoke up before any of the other Stars could say something. “Is Moran letting you go so easily?”

“Feh.” Zorran snorted, knowing an insult when he heard it. “Well, look at you all. Still steam powered, after all this? Don’t you know diesel engines are the way of the future?”

“Yeah, look at where it got Zak. Or Zip and Zug,” Big Mac rumbled. The three hadn’t come off nearly as well from the modernizations as Zorran had. Zip and Zug, never the brightest of tugs, hadn’t survived and were now lifeless switchers working in a small harbor up the coast. Zak, meanwhile, had grown ever more mean-spirited and cocky until he failed to give way to a large cargo ship and was sent to the bottom of the sea.

Zorran simply frowned at the reminder. Though the Zeros had always been outnumbered, Zorran was now well and truly without backup. He looked over to Zebedee, now an oil burner but still steam powered even after all these years, but the other tug pointedly averted his eyes.

“Come on now.” Triton stood out on Hercules’ deck, looking over the scene sternly. “Whatever rivalry you all used to have, you’re all in the same situation now. There’s no more Zero or Star marine. We have to work together if we’re going to make it across the Atlantic alright.”

The tugs all made similar unhappy expressions and looked away from each other. Triton sighed, it was going to be a long journey.

\-----------

 

 

The auto ferry Kalakala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about what Kalakala says, it translates to "Now they throw me out like trash!" Someone really isn't happy about being sold.
> 
> She's obviously an OC, but was also a real-life ferry here in Seattle. In 1935, the year of her launching, she was the second most photographed object in the world behind the Eiffel Tower. Kalakala was retired in the 1967. Many attempts were made to save her, but she was sent to the scrappers yard January of 2015. Her inclusion here is mostly my little tribute to a famous ship with an ignoble end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relatively short chapter as we check in on each of our characters and see how they're doing.

As the motley convoy departed Bigg City harbor, the sun was already peeking its way over the distant horizon. A thick fog lay over the still, calm surface of the water, though the forecast called for the sun to burn it off. It didn’t take long for the ships to lose sight of anything but each other’s navigation lights. Fortunately one of the modern features added to each tug was a marine VHF radio. If someone had trouble, all they needed to do was transmit on channel 16 and the others would hear. Assuming they weren’t idly chatting on other channels as they sometimes did.

Trusting Hercules to find his way without assistance, Triton Star chose instead to sit out on the edge of the weather deck to watch the sun rise through the grey mist. 

“Evening red and morning grey, help a sailor on his way.” Hercules commented softly, referring to the blood red sunset they had watched the night before and the deep fog they faced this morning. “Should be good weather today, at least.”

“Yes, thank goodness.” As the sun climbed higher the fog slowly began to clear. Triton had been keeping a close watch on the weather forecast, choosing a season when hopefully things would remain calm and clear. “It’ll be a pleasant journey as long as it stays like this.”

Hercules chuckled, checking their course on his compass and correcting north by a few points. “One can only hope.” He was silent for several long moments, contemplating the events of the last few days. “What do you think will happen to Bigg City now?”

Triton shrugged helplessly. The decline of Bigg City was due to many factors, from the increasing size of cargo vessels to the silting-in of the area rivers. Logging was no longer a major industry, having exhausting the supply of large timber years before, and the highway system meant that more and more goods were being sent by road rather than rail or water. “Change is inevitable, even if we don’t like it. Life will go on, I guess, even if it doesn’t resemble what we remember.”

“It’s strange, to think that we will never see Bigg City again.” Hercules had spent the least amount of time in the city of all the Star Tugs; he couldn’t imagine what the others were feeling. They had never even seen other cities, save OJ in his younger years. 

“It might not even exist in a few more years.” Triton commented. There had been much talk of the city becoming annexed by the rapidly expanding nearby cities. The coast was no longer dotted by isolated towns, it was becoming a sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and concrete. “I believe your new owners will leave your homeports the same. There will be that reminder, at least.”

“At least.” Hercules’ voice drifted off, his concentration shifting for a moment. “Breakfast is ready in the galley if you’re hungry, sir.”

As he said this, the cook stepped out onto the deck. “Captain? Food’s ready.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you.” Triton climbed to his feet and headed for the ladder. 

“How-?” The cook looked up at the profile of Hercules’ face. “Right, course. Always forget you all can feel everything going on.”

“That we do, darling.” Hercules allowed himself a small smile. “There are more plates in the cabinet under the sink, by the way.”

“Course there are.” With a good natured roll of his eyes, the cook wandered back down to the galley to serve the crew.

 

As predicted, the sun burned through the morning mist until it shone off the endless surface of the ocean. Lillie gasped as she looked out at the distant horizon, squinting against the bright sun. She hadn’t seen so much water since she had been built, many decades before, and had made the Atlantic crossing to arrive at her post in Bigg City. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Looks like it will be lovely weather.” The lightship commented to her companion. 

Zorran, never much of a conversationalist, grunted in reply. “Don’t count on it staying around. Just our luck, it’ll storm soon enough.”

“Oooh, don’t say that. Don’t be such a pessimist.” Lillie frowned, pursing her lips. She would get saddled with the least pleasant tug for the long journey. 

“Have a look at the clouds then.” Zorran, like any ship, was fairly adept at reading the weather. Even if he took a more negative view than most. “Mackerel scales. We’ll see rain and wind for sure.”

“I can read clouds, Zorran. And it could just be a passing movement. Far too early to say.” Lillie rolled her eyes. Bully Hercules for taking an auto ferry, the ocean tug would be far better company. She wrinkled her nose as wind blew the diesel exhaust from Zorran’s stack down toward her. And better smelling too. 

 

A way behind Zorran, OJ was reminiscing as he often did. “Ahh, I remember the first time I crossed the Atlantic. Brand new I was, only a few weeks old.”

“When was that, when Ol’ Ironsides was new?” Zebedee scoffed. Though he pretended to resent having a talkative tow, he was secretly glad for the company. The Atlantic was a vast ocean, and he had no desire to spend the days crossing it alone. 

“Hah hah, very close, lad.” OJ had heard every possible joke there was to make about his age, and had long since stopped taking offense. “My paddles were shipped aboard as cargo, and they rigged me as a Brig to sail across the Atlantic. Now that was an adventure.” The old steamer looked down at the paddles strapped to his deck and sighed softly. As interesting as his short stint as a sailboat had been, he felt naked without his paddles. But strapped to Zebedee as he was the buckets would only create drag and stress his engine.

“A tug, fitted out with sails?” Zebedee grimaced at the thought. He quite liked having an engine that could send him where he needed to go regardless of the winds. 

“Don’t look so skeptical,” OJ laughed. “Tugs have been fitted with steadying sails for decades. Dunno why they ever stopped.”

“Maybe because engines are better?” Zebedee turned his attention back towards the sea, trying to keep Zorran in sight ahead. The last thing he wanted was to try and navigate the featureless Atlantic on his own. “Least then you don’t have to wait for the wind to blow your way.”

“Sad that shipping isn’t done by sail anymore.” OJ lamented, remembering days of a youth long past. “Even before tramp steamers, we tugs used to escort in square riggers and windjammers loaded with cargo. I can remember coming alongside loaded down lumber schooners and having to fight off other tugs. Sometimes the haggling got down so cheap I’m surprised anybody ever made a profit. And some captains, well they didn’t believe in these new-fangled steam engines and would come in under their own power even if it took them –days-.”

Zebedee rolled his eyes but, though he would deny the fact to the end, a small smile crept across his face at the chatter. 

 

The first day at sea ended with the sun setting at their backs, a blanket of stars stretching out far overhead. For the harbor tugs, it was their first time seeing the stars without the obscuring haze of Bigg City’s lights. 

“Wow,” Big Mac looked up at the seemingly endless sky, marveling at the way the stars seamlessly meshed with the ocean’s surface. The water was smooth enough to reflect the sky overhead, creating the illusion that he was floating in a sea of stars. 

It was a little eerie for a harbor tug that had never been out of sight of land. Without his compass and the lights of the other tugs in the distance, Big Mac would’ve been completely lost. 

The sky was just beginning to brighten on the edge of the far-away horizon when the harbor tug’s reverie was broken by the arrival of a human crew member on the weather deck. 

“Change of watch.” The human announced, wisely stepping back when Big Mac turned to look at him and caused the entire wheelhouse to swivel. 

“Wha’ do you mean by that?” Big Mac asked with a frown. He certainly didn’t like the idea of turning control of his body over to one of the humans onboard.

The sailor was undeterred. “Captain’s orders, I’m to take over wheel watch. Captain Star says you lot have to sleep too.”

No matter how much he disliked it, orders from Captain Star were law. Reluctantly, Big Mac moved to his human form and opened the wheelhouse door for the sailor. 

“Headin’ is Eas-nor’east. Travelin’ at about 5 knots. Been following Hercules’ stern light up ahead.” Big Mac stepped back from the wheel as the human took a hold of the heavy wooden spokes. “I trust there’s an engineer on watch too?”

“Yeah, Chief Allen took over down there.”

Unable to find another reason to stay, Big Mac finally gave in and stepped out of the wheelhouse. He couldn’t retreat to the Captain’s Quarters, or any of the bunks, since they were now all occupied. Instead, he settled against the towbitt on his bow to watch the sun make its way over the horizon. Truth be told, he was a bit tired. Ocean going tugs like Hercules were capable of sailing days on end without sleep, but the harbor tugs had never needed such endurance. Still, Big Mac couldn’t rest with the knowledge that he was out in the middle of the ocean with humans at his helm and throttle. Instead, he dozed uneasily until the sun was high in the sky and the change of watch meant that he could return to his body. 

 

Slowly the calm water gave way to higher seas. The ships easily settled into the pattern of the rolling waves, riding the peaks and troughs with the ease of vessels that had been built for such environments.

Warrior hummed a little tune as he crested a wave and rolled down the other side; glancing over the barges he had in tow to make sure they still carried their load of coal. It wouldn’t do to lose any of the precious fuel. 

Everything seemed to be going well until Warrior noticed his boiler feeling a bit low. Idly, the tug attempted to add more from his feed water tank only to find something blocking the way. 

“Darn feed water pump.” The tug grumbled. His feed water pump, which drew water from either his hot well or reserve water tank to maintain the boiler’s water levels, had been acting up for months now. Warrior had meant to mention it to Captain Star, but in all honesty it kept slipping his mind. Being a harbor tug, he usually wasn’t ever too far from a water source so it hadn’t seemed important. 

Shifting to his human form, Warrior grabbed the nearest human and told them to stand at the wheel while he hustled down to his engine room. There wasn’t a convenient standpipe to refill from here in the middle of the Atlantic.

Down in the hot, cramped confines of his engine room, Warrior found that the Chief Engineer was already on the task. Right, he’d forgotten there would be trained engineers amoung the crew hired. 

“You’re the tug, right?” The man wiped his sweaty brow and straightened up. “The feed water pump quit. I managed to get your general maintenance pump to take water out of the reserve tank, but the safety valve on the hot well is gonna go if this don’t get fixed.”

Huh, he hadn’t even known his maintenance pump could be made to do that. Warrior grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, that pump’s been actin’ up for weeks. Usually works again in a bit if you hit it with a hammer.” He held out a ball-peen hammer he had grabbed from the tool room on his way down. 

The Chief frowned and shook his head, taking the hammer and setting it aside. “It’s probably air in the line. Can you close the steam and water lines to this pump?”

“On it!” Warrior, despite his bulky size, managed to make his way through the engine room and cranked shut the valves that led to the pump. “Now do we hit it with the hammer?”

“Let’s save that for a last resort. Monkey wrench?”

Said tool was retrieved from the tool board, and Warrior set about helping the human repair his pump. These human crews weren’t all bad, especially if they finally managed to fix the malfunctioning pump. Maybe he’d be able to get them to clean up his decks too.

 

“I never thought I’d find myself missing Frank and Eddie.” Top Hat contemplated as he looked at the lifeless passenger cars and the single, silent locomotive occupying the equally plain railway barge rafted alongside him. As irritating as the pair of chatty barges had been, they were at least entertaining company. 

Top Hat briefly contemplated getting on the radio, but none of the others in the little brigade were exactly riveting conversationalists. That; and Captain Star had been fairly strict about them not using their radios except for actual emergencies. 

Frowning, Top Hat looked ahead to see himself gradually gaining on Warrior and his coal barges. Odd, the harbor tug must be slowing down because Top Hat certainly hadn’t adjusted his speed any. 

In a few more minutes, Top Hat was alongside the other tug. “Warrior? Is something wrong?”

No answer. Top Hat realized that Warrior’s face was gone from the wheelhouse, meaning that the tug was somewhere in his human form instead. And that there was a human crew member at the wheel.

The door to the wheelhouse opened and a sailor leaned out. “Feed water pump failed, you should go ahead of us!”

As he finished speaking, a jet of steam exhausted from low on Warrior’s side. The backpressure valve had popped. Top Hat shook his head and slowly overtook the other tug. Imagine, having a human at the wheel. One of the crewmembers on the railway tug had offered to take over the morning shift, but Top Hat had steadfastly refused. Humans were good for repairwork and cleaning, but there was no way he was letting one –control his body.-


	3. Chapter 3

The days at sea wore on much the same. Nearly all the tugs had been convinced to allow human crew members to take over shifts, even Hercules at the reassurance that Triton himself would stand watch. The only exception was Top Hat, who still steadfastly refused to let someone else take control. 

Crew members on the railway tug were lounging about, idly checking lines and making sure the rolling stock on the barges were still secure, when a loud snore vibrated the wooden body of the tug. In the engine room, the engineers looked over in worry to see the engine suddenly slow down to a stop. 

The Chief Engineer frowned and went over to the voicetube leading up to the wheelhouse. “What’s going on up there?”

“Tug’s fallen asleep, Chief.” Came the tinny voice of one of the human crew members. “Can you take over down there?”

“Sounds good to me.” The engineering team had been utterly bored from a lack of anything to do anyway. The engine room bell bonged loudly, calling for standard speed, and the Chief happily went to the throttle valve to give it to them. 

 

Aboard Hercules, Triton Star sighed and returned the mic of the radio to its handset. “Looks like Top Hat finally fell asleep. While sailing. I wish I could say I was surprised.”

“I’d talk to him if I thought it would do any good.” Hercules, standing next to his owner in human form, shrugged. He understood why Top Hat didn’t feel comfortable giving over control, Hercules wouldn’t let any human at his wheel except Triton for that reason, but it was simple fact that the harbor tugs didn’t have the endurance to make it all the way across the Atlantic on their own. 

“Yes, Top Hat has always been a stubborn one.” Triton turned to mark their position on his chart before going back to the wheel. “At least Warrior seems to be getting along with his crew okay.”

“At least.” Hercules agreed. “And how are Zebedee and Zorran?” He had doubts about the two Z-stacks being able to work with human crews. 

“Foss and Moran both required their tugs to be manned. Even if they don’t like it, those two have had crews before and will deal with it.” Or at least, so Triton hoped. The two tugs had been very quiet on the radio. “I wonder if maybe I should have done the same.”

“Would it have helped?”

Triton gave a wry smile. “Probably not.” 

 

Zebedee had indeed grudgingly accepted the necessity of the human crew. He’d been forced to work with them for the last twenty years, as was required by every tug that worked for Foss Marine. It had been a choice between being manned by a crew or being scrapped, which wasn’t really a choice at all. 

Things had fallen quiet for a little while, as Zebedee was too far from the others to hear their conversations and OJ appeared to be asleep, when the harbor tug suddenly felt his fire go out. 

“What the-“ Zebedee frowned and attempted to re-light only to have no luck. Immediately, he slowed down his engine to try and conserve steam and got on the radio. “Zorran, this is Zebedee. I’ve lost my boiler fire.”

There was a crackle before the other tug’s irritated voice came through. “Well what do you want me to do about it?”

Twenty years apart and Zorran was still as caustic as ever. Good to see some things never changed. “I have to slow my engine until I get fire back up. Throw me a line so I don’t fall behind?” And oh, it cut deep to have to ask for help, but Zebedee had to be realistic. He only had a few more minutes of running time left for his engine before his boiler ran out of steam and he really didn’t want to get left behind by the group for however long it took to get fire back. Assuming he could get fire back at all and it wasn’t something serious that had failed. 

A long suffering sigh came through the radio before Zorran turned around and headed back. “Tow you, tow Lillie, tow that old paddler. Just let Zorran take care of it.”

Zorran came close enough for a crew member to throw a line to Zebedee, which was secured on the bow towbitt. Now assured that he wouldn’t get left behind, Zebedee headed down to his engine room to see just what was the matter. 

“There you are.” One of the engineers turned as Zebedee appeared, holding up a long metal rod. “Your air damper arm fell off. Shut off air to the fire.”

“Well can you fix it?” Zebedee was no mechanic and didn’t have the patience to bum around fixing his own systems. That’s what human engineers were for. 

“Prob’ly.” The man turned back to contemplate the air intake system for the firebox. “Long as nothing’s sheered off, I should be able to just put the arm back on.”

With nothing better to do and no reason to go back to his wheelhouse, Zebedee settled down in a chair next to the engine room to watch the engineer work. Being oil burning was such a pain in the funnel sometimes. If he still burned coal, it was a simple matter of just stoking the fire back up. But oil burning required a precise mixing of oil, steam, and air to burn properly. The air damper let in the exact amount of air needed, unless the arm fell off and the damper shut. No air, no fire. Zebedee didn’t care how much more efficient burning oil was, most of the time it was just a bother. 

“You gonna watch, or help?” The voice of the engineer, whose arms were buried in the complicated steam piping above the boiler, broke into Zebedee’s thoughts. 

The tug just sneered. “It ain’t my job to fix what’s broke.”

Shaking his head, the human returned to his task. “Damn tugboats.”

 

Fortunately, the damage wasn’t serious. Warrior had also been fully repaired, and so the convoy wasn’t delayed appreciably by the minor breakdowns. Which was good, because they were only halfway through the crossing and still had a long ways to go. 

Late in the day, Big Mac pulled alongside Warrior to refuel. It had to be done carefully, to ensure no coal was lost to the sea. Big Mac tied onto one of the barges and the human crew set about shoveling coal into large sacks to be dumped into the harbor tug’s bunkers. 

“Doing alright there, Warrior?” Though Big Mac didn’t particularly enjoy the tricky process of staying alongside a moving barge, he did appreciate the chance to talk with his brother. 

“Yeah, I’m doing great.” Warrior smiled proudly. “We got my feed water pump all fixed. And cleaned up my air pump too.”

“Well that’s good.” Big Mac chuckled, glad to hear his brother was managing the long trip alright. 

The two tugs were suddenly distracted by a commotion coming from the barges, and Big Mac looked back at the loud cry of “Man Overboard!”

Growing quickly distant, a small figure was visible in the rising waves. Both tugs immediately reversed engines, coming to a jerking halt, as men attempted to launch one of the wooden skiffs. There wasn’t time for that, though. The waters of the Atlantic were freezing cold, and there was the danger of the man getting run over by the bulk of the drydock Big Mac had in tow. 

Big Mac didn’t even pause to think. He moved to his human form and ran past the frantic humans on deck, diving off his stern into the icy, dark waters. The cold did not affect him, nor did the waves crashing over his head, as Big Mac stuck out for the distressed human with strong, powerful strokes. 

“Help!” The sailor called, forced underwater by cresting waves only to bob back up desperately to the surface. 

“I got ya.” Big Mac wrapped one arm around the man’s chest and used the other to paddle towards the thick towline that dragged in the water. The dry-dock carrying Ten Cents and Sunshine loomed closer like a great, grey wall, still moving with forward momentum even through the tug pulling it had stopped. 

Reaching the towline, Big Mac managed to get the half-drowned sailor to cling around his waist so that he would have both hands free to hang onto the rough braided rope. Hand over hand, they moved towards the rounded stern of Big Mac’s body. As soon as they were close enough to grab, hands reached down haul the waterlogged human aboard. Quickly, the man was hustled inside to warm up and change into dry clothing. 

More hands attempted to help up Big Mac, but he simply shook his head and vanished his human form. No reason to stay in it any longer than he needed to. 

After a moment’s confusion, the men ran around to the foredeck so they could clap and cheer for the rescue. A bit of a blush reddened Big Mac’s cheeks in embarrassment at the celebration. “It was nothing. Really. Don’ you all have work to do?”

The men laughed and shook their heads, but returned to the task of loading coal aboard. 

“Tha’ was amazing.” Warrior was staring at his brother with wide eyes.

“Was nothing.” Big Mac harrumphed, keeping a watchful eye on the crew members shoveling coal on the barge. “Man needed saving, somebody had ta do something.”

Even so, that night the men gathered on the foredeck for a bit of a celebration. A guitar and some bottles of beer were procured, the sound of sea shanties ringing loudly through the night. 

“Alright, alright, alright.” One of the men grabbed the guitar, taking a deep swig of his beer. It was the same man who had fallen overboard earlier, he still had a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders but otherwise seemed fully recovered. “I’ll lead ‘dis one. You lot should all know it”

He gave the guitar a strum, settling into a jaunty rhythm. 

“Lord Nelson knew a perfect way to cure your Mal-de-mer  
So if you pay attention, his secret I will share.  
To many a sea-sick sailor he gave this advice for free:  
If yer feeling sea-sick, sit underneath a tree!”

The men gave a cheer and started in on the chorus, but startled when a deep voice joined in. 

“I’m marching inland from the shore, over m’ shoulder I’m carrying an oar.  
When someone asks me “What – is that funny thing you got?”  
Then I know I’ll never go to sea no more no more.  
I know I never go to sea no more!”

The expected next verse didn’t come, and Big Mac looked down to see all the sailors staring at him in astonishment. 

“Wha-?” The tug asked defensively. “Can’t a boat like sea shanties too?”

The group of men all laughed, tension broken, and continued on singing merrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shanty "Marching Inland" for the curious. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2klfR0R42eQ
> 
> I've always liked the mental image of the tugs sitting around singing Sea Shanties. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, random fact. The various breakdowns (air damper arm falling off, feed water pump failing) are ones that have happened IRL on the steamship I work on. Nothing better than drawing inspiration from real life, I suppose.


	4. Chapter 4

Nautical twilight was the term for that gorgeous time of evening when the stars were visible in the dark sky but there was still just the glow of the sunset on the horizon. It was beautiful, but also a perfect time for finding their precise latitude to double-check their location against the dead-reckoning that the Captains had been all tracking on their charts. 

Most mariners required complicated instruments to determine latitude from the stars. Long distance ocean-going ships, though, had the ability to do it naturally. 

“Hmmmm.” Triton Star narrowed his eyes as he focused on the distant horizon, then raised his gaze to the brightly glowing stars above. “51 degrees latitude? And. . 40 minutes?”

“41.” Hercules supplied, a hint of a smile on his face. “But very close.” The two had been doing this for years, working on perfecting instinctive celestial navigation. To Hercules it came easily after so many years at sea, but Triton had to work a little harder at it. 

“Only a mile off.” Triton shrugged, well used to this by now. It was still an impressive level of accuracy without instruments. At the same moment, the Captain knew, crews on the other boats would be busy figuring their locations using sextants to find the angles of the stars from the horizon and referencing complicated charts to turn that into a latitude. “Time to turn east, then.”

“Changing heading to due east.” Hercules responded dutifully, getting on the radio to inform the other tugs of the alteration to his course. 

“Well, a longitude reading will have to wait until afternoon tomorrow. But judging from yesterday we should be only two or three days until we reach Sodor.” Triton looked over his charts, marking their latitude and giving their longitude his best guesstimate based on how far they had travelled over the day. 

“I look forward to sighting land.” 

 

The noon sun on the next day confirmed Triton’s prediction. They had almost made it. 

“Finally.” Zorran muttered upon hearing that they were only a few days from their destination. “Be nice to get away from these goody-goody Star stacks.”

“Why Zorran, are you implying you don’t enjoy company?” Lillie smiled innocently. “And we’ve been having such fun.”

“Feh,” The harbor tug sneered, looking up at the clouds suspiciously. “And here comes that rain.”

“Rain?” Lillie observed the sky as well, taking note of how the clouds had changed from the day before. 

“Barometric pressure dropped.” Zorran supplied. “Still going down. Rain’s coming.”

Sure enough, an hour later a soft rain began to fall. Over the course of the day it gained in intensity until the rain pounded a steady rhythm against the ship’s decks. Soon the wind had picked up too, causing salty spray to mingle with the freshwater running out their scuppers. 

 

“Almost to Britain, so of course now the weather turns.” Zebedee frowned up at rolling grey clouds overtaking their group.

“And here’s the downside of having glasses.” OJ commented as he squinted through the water droplets that covered the glass of his spectacles. “I suppose at least I’m not the one under power.”

“No, I am.” Zebedee grumbled, wincing against the rain stinging his face. “Winds picking up. I don' like the looks of this.”

“In fact, this feels like. . . “ OJ turned to look behind them, eyes widening at the sight of a line of dark clouds piling up and steadily approaching. “A squall!”

“What?” Zebedee risked a glance too. The line of storm was advancing slowly but surely. “I don’ like the looks of that.”

The long, rolling waves that preceded a storm began to reach the convoy, lifting the ship’s sterns and pushing them onwards. A radio call was sent out to all the tugs, and then there was nothing to do but batten down the hatches and secure the lines. 

“Oh, what inconvenient timing for a storm!” Top Hat gave a yelp when a particularly large wave lifted him up, breaking over his stern and washing his deck. The rolling stock on his barges lurched against their chains, rain battering against their glass windows. 

Another mighty wave crashed, accompanied by the sharp snap of a chain breaking. The heavy locomotive on one barge suddenly rolled further than before, coming dangerously close to the edge before skidding back to the center of the barge. 

“The chains on the GG-1 have broken!” One of the sailors called, huddled against the rain in a bright yellow slicker. 

More chains were hauled up from belowdecks and the men hastened to get them onto the barge. It wasn’t easy, between the heavy chains and the water washing across the deck there was a very real possibility of someone getting swept overboard. And this time, there would be no rescue. 

Watching the men struggle, Top Hat made a decision. He would never be forgiven if someone drowned on his watch. 

“Take the wheel!” Top Hat called to the nearest sailor as he rushed out of his wheelhouse. The humans could be hurt too easily, but he couldn’t. 

The rain was only a minor annoyance to Top Hat as he took the chains from the human sailors and jumped down onto the tossing barge. The tug was able to get dangerously close to the multi-ton locomotive, having no fear of being crushed as he worked to secure new chains from the engine to sturdy steel loops set into the deck of the barge. He’d better get a nice, long overhaul and new paint after this was all done. 

 

On the dry-dock carrying Ten Cents and Sunshine, the waves were becoming more and more dangerous. Without any kind of power, the dock was at the mercy of the seas. The two small switchers could only hope that Big Mac managed to keep his speed up ahead of the storm swells. 

“I don’ like this.” Ten Cents groaned as the dock was lifted high up on the crest of a wave before crashing down the other face. Water managed to slosh over the high sides surrounding the two tugs and swirled about the chocks holding up their hulls. 

“Better than being ou’ there under our own power.” Sunshine gulped as everything shuddered around them. “Maybe.”

“Maybe we should’ve just stayed in Bigg City- whoa!” The entire dry-dock swayed, a wave taking it sideways and causing the whole world to tilt. Just as Ten Cents thought they might roll completely over, the world abruptly slammed back to horizontal. 

Seawater splashed against them, and Ten Cents had a moment of panic when he felt one of the chocks under his hull shift. 

“You alright there, Ten Cents?” Sunshine asked worriedly. 

“I’m not sure, I-“ Ten Cents gave a shout when another wave sloshed against him, shifting the blocks holding him up. Suddenly, he was in motion. After a brief moment of freefall, Ten Cents crashed down against the bottom of the dry dock with a tremendous bang. The tug felt something splinter in his hull at the impact before settling heavily on his side. 

“Ten Cents?!”

“I’m okay.” Ten Cents groaned as the dock lurched, making him shift uncomfortably in the swirling water on the floor of the dock. “I think. Ow.”

 

The storm wasn’t being kind to anyone as it tossed them about with ten foot high waves and heavy winds. Having a following sea meant the waves were pushing them from the stern, rendering it nigh impossible to steer. One simply had to hold on tight as they surfed down the face of one wave and were shoved up by another. 

Even Hercules was struggling. He had dealt with worse storms before, but never with such a large tow. The bulk of the auto ferry Kalakala tied at his port kept pulling him to one side as he slid down the tall waves, and prevented him from outrunning the swells. 

As another wave caught him under his sternpost, Hercules felt his glasses slip a bit down his nose. “Oh, no you don’t you little-“

He slammed down into the trough, vibrating his very keel bolts, and his glasses clattered down onto the foredeck. Well, at least they hadn’t ended up in the Atlantic; he’d have never gotten them back if that happened. 

Blurry shapes in yellow rainslickers suddenly gathered on the foredeck, the crew quickly working to strap down his glasses before waves could wash them overboard. Hercules was abruptly grateful for the human sailors. 

“Sorry about that, Hercules!” The voice of Triton Star reached him from one of the figures on the deck. “We’ll get them back on after this storm blows through!”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Hercules very rarely used endearments for his owner, but felt that this time it would be alright. “I wouldn’t be able to see much with them, anyway.”

“Sorry to bother!” Now that was Kalakala, who had spent the entire trip up until that point fuming silently. “But I’m taking on water!”

What perfect timing. “Can your bilge pumps keep up with it, darling?”

“Yes, for now. The waves bashed in my cover-boards.” Before leaving, the wide openings at either end of the ferry used for loading cars had been boarded over to help keep water out. But the heavy waves had managed to crash right through the 2-by-4s and water was now sweeping her driveways. 

“Let me know if it starts coming in faster than you can pump out.” Hercules gritted his teeth and fought to hold his course as the water shoved insistently at his rudder. It kept trying to push him hard over, which would put him beam-on to the seas and be absolutely disastrous. 

 

This was, of course, exactly what happened to Warrior. Fortunately, the wide coal barges on either side of the harbor tug dampened his roll and kept him from capsizing. It was, however, incredibly unsettling to feel for the humans on board. More than one sailor found themselves hanging over the side to empty their stomachs. 

“Sorry!” Warrior fought to straighten himself out. Taking waves bow-on was what a tugboat was intended for, getting them on the stern made for very tricky handling. “Don’ worry, I’ve got this.”

It soon became apparent that the harbor tug really didn’t “have this.” Swells tugged at his coal barges, which shifted unevenly against his hull. First one was tossed into the air, straining at the lines securing them to Warrior’s sides, then it would slam back down and the other would lift up. 

As the barges put stress on their lines, the woven rope stretched out and slowly slipped from the cleats they were secured to. 

“The barges are coming free!” A sailor cried, the crew moving to try and secure the loosening lines. 

Spare lines from the line-locker were enough to lash down one barge, but they weren’t fast enough to get the other. A big swell ripped loose the starboard coal barge, sending it swirling off into the storm. Soon, the barge was out of sight. 

“Uh-oh.” Warrior mumbled as he managed to straighten out his course and bring his rudder back a center. “Captain Star’s not gonna be happy. That was a new barge.”

 

In heavy seas and a worsening storm, there were more important things to worry about than a lost barge. Like keeping everyone alive and above water. After several hours of driving rain and rolling seas, the wind died down and the storm managed to clear. A few stars poked through the cloud cover, though with no visible horizon it was hard to make an accurate latitude reading. 

Once they had managed to get Hercules’ glasses back on his face (a more difficult task than it sounded), Triton got on the radio to contact the other tugs in the party. “Alright everyone, report in. How’d everyone weather that storm?”

“Top Hat here. Had a bit of trouble with the locomotive on my barge, but took care of it.” The railway tug sounded very proud of himself for coming through with all the rolling stock he had started with.

“Zebedee. I’m okay.” There was a pause. “OJ too. Lost visual on Zorran though.”

“I’m still ahead of you,” Zorran’s voice was unmistakable on the channel. “Still got Lillie too.”

“Big Mac to Captain Star. I’m alright, but I think there’s a problem on my tow. I heard some banging.”

Triton bit his lip, concerned over Ten Cents and Sunshine. They had no way of contacting the others, as without steam up in their boilers they couldn’t run their generators. And without those, there was no electricity for their radios. “Is anyone close enough to Big Mac to check on Ten Cents and Sunshine?”

“I am. Uh, I mean. This is Warrior. I can see the dry dock.” There was a pause as Warrior checked in on the two switchers. “Ten Cents says he fell over. He’s okay though.”

Okay, then. At least one of them would have to report to a yard for repairs on arrival, then. Triton made a note of that in the ship’s log. “And how’s your load, Warrior?”

“Well . . .” The harbor tug trailed off sheepishly, and Triton sighed. He probably should’ve expected that. 

“Sorry to interrupt, m’dears.” Hercules broke in on the radio channel. “But I’ve just sighted a light.”

Triton immediately looked up from the logbook, squinting at the white light visible in the distance. It flashed, meaning it wasn’t another ship. “Does it have a pattern?”

“Two flashes every twenty seconds.” Hercules supplied. Though he knew the flash patterns of every lighthouse and lightship on the US coast, this was a completely different country and therefor unfamiliar to him. 

“That’s-“ Triton pulled out his nautical charts of the British Isles, which is where they hopefully had ended up, paying close attending to the lights shown along the coastlines. One did indeed match that flash pattern. “Inishtearaght Light. Ireland, we’ve reached Ireland. We’re almost there! We’ll be in Sodor tomorrow, boys.”


	5. Chapter 5

The tugs sailed on through the night with a fresh feeling of excitement. After so many days at sea, they were finally in sight of land again. This was a source of much comfort to the harbor tugs, who had been quite uneasy to be so far out to sea for such a long period of time. The many lighthouses of the Irish coast led them around the southern end of the island and into the Celtic Sea, past towering rocky islands that loomed menacingly in the dark and dangerous shoals that were all but invisible save for their marker lights. 

As the sun rose, it revealed to the tugs the beautiful waters of the Irish Sea. Their new home. 

“Wow.” Warrior gazed at the rugged coastline, thick mist clinging to the tops of steep cliffs and rolling green hills. “I’ve never seen a waterway like this.”

“It’s not bad.” Top Hat sniffed. The railway tug was sitting alongside Warrior re-coaling as they slowly sailed north. 

“Look, there’s other tugs too!” Warrior whistled a happy greeting as another tug chuffed past, pushing a barge loaded with containers in front of it. The other tug honked back with a low-pitched blat of their air horn. 

“It is nice to see some other ships again.” Big Mac agreed, steaming along behind his brother. Now that they were in calmer seas, it was safe to get close enough to talk with the other tugs. This waterway seemed to be a fairly busy shipping channel, because there were all kinds of boats making their way through. Tugs, container ships, pleasureboats, fishing vessels, and more. It was a pleasant kind of chaos, reminiscent of Bigg City harbor in the old days. 

“Where is it that we’re going again?” Top Hat finished coaling and increased his speed to take a position ahead of Warrior. 

“That would be Brendam Bay, on an island called Sodor.” Hercules called back, able to hear their conversation from his place at the front of the group. “We’ll be there at the end of the day. Captain Star is on the radio with the harbormaster.”

Triton was indeed, as they were finally close enough to use the Brendam Marina’s VHF channel. “We should arrive by sundown. Do you have slips prepared for us?”

“Ready and waiting.” Replied the harbormaster. “Will any of your party need assistance?”

“We’ll all be alright docking. But several in our party require repair.” It wasn’t unexpected, at least they had all made it relatively intact. “One of the smaller tugs in the dry-dock has fallen off his hull blocks. We’ll need a crane to get him upright and a crew to inspect the damage. The auto ferry we have in tow is also complaining of a shaft leak, she’ll need a dry dock with a one-thousand ton capacity.”

“A crane we have on hand. The dry dock might have to wait until tomorrow; it will take a while to prep. Several tugs in your party are also scheduled for paint or maintenance work. We can go over that once you arrive.”

“Sounds good, will radio when we’re an hour away. Captain Star, out.”

“Brendam Marina, out.”

 

Several hours later, the group got their first look at Brendam Bay. A long, concrete seawall hosted several moored freighters, while a familiar four-stacked ocean liner was tied up on the eastern wall. 

“Is that? Vienna?” Top Hat gasped. They hadn’t seen the famous liner in decades. Everyone assumed she had been lost in the second world war. 

“Can’t be.” Warrior frowned. “Vienna was white.”

“That’s her,” Top Hat insisted, “She must have been repainted. I think I’d know the Vienna when I saw her.”

“Enough about her. Have you noticed that all the ships here are steamers?” Big Mac never thought he’d see a port full of tramp steamers and fishing boats again. 

“That is why we’re here, right darlings?” Hercules couldn’t keep a smile off his face at the sight, either. “Because here, things are still done by steam. And we’re here to help them keep doing it.”

“That’s right.” Triton Star stepped out onto Hercules’ stern to address the ships, a megaphone held in hand to help broadcast his voice. “Now, let’s get tied up. Big Mac, you need to take your tow over to that seawall so that the crane can lift Ten Cents up. Warrior, drop off your coal barge so you can help your brother.”

“Yes, sir!” There was a coaling depo nearby for the tramp steamers, a perfect place for Warrior to leave his now empty barge to assist Big Mac in securing the dry-dock with Ten Cents and Sunshine in it to the wharf.

“Top Hat,” Triton turned to the railway tug with his barges of railway rolling stock. “Take your barges over to the other crane to be unloaded.”

“Right away, sir.” 

“Zorran, Zebedee. There should be slips waiting for OJ and Lillie at the Maritime Museum. If you could drop them off, then tie up at the empty pier just to the north.” Hopefully, the two former Z-stacks would be able to share a pier with some of the Star tugs for just a night. “Warrior, Big Mac, Top Hat, you can go there too as soon as you’re done.”

“And where is this lovely lady headed?” Hercules asked, turning his head towards Kalakala. 

“She has a spot waiting for her just ahead of that ocean liner.”

Hercules easily slid the auto ferry into the empty slip, sailors scrambling throw lines up onto the bollards decorating the seawall. 

On the southern side of the seawall, a sling was carefully secured around Ten Cent’s hull to prepare him to be lifted by one of the dockside cranes. The straps of the sling were attached to the crane’s hook, then the humans gave the okay to lift and stepped back. 

“Whoa!” Ten Cents shut his eyes briefly as he felt himself by lifted into the air. It was not a pleasant feeling for a boat who was used to the comforting press of water about his hull. 

“Well then, looks like you’ve gotten a bit banged up.” The crane commented as he hoisted Ten Cents up level with the top of the seawall so that humans could look over the damage to his hull. 

Ten Cents frowned, opening his eyes so that he could glare at the crane, but whatever he was going to say was lost as he got his first look at his new home. The docks were a bustling hive of activity, the many rail lines hosting engines and their trains running back and forth tirelessly. Humans were on hand as well, loading and unloading crates or shifting piles of freight. It was the kind of activity that hadn’t been seen in Bigg City in years. 

“Ahoy there, matey!” A voice called up from below. “Cranky’s right, you look like you’ve had a hard journey here.”

“Ahoy.” Ten Cents responded, amused to hear such a greeting from someone on land. The speaker appeared to be a small diesel locomotive, with a smile on his weathered face. The switcher was fascinated to see a living machine that was not a ship or a crane. “Yeah, there was a bit of a squall. Threw me from my hull blocks!”

“A bit of a squall?!” Sunshine called from down in the dry-dock. “I thought we’d capsize for sure.”

The locomotive chuckled, “Well, sounds like a harrowing journey. You’ll have to tell me all about it, nothing I love more than sea stories. My name is Salty.”

“I’m Ten Cents. Oh, and down there is Sunshine. We’re from Bigg City in America. Come to work in your harbor.”

Salty seemed surprised. “You here to stay, then?”

“So I hear. Assumin’ they manage to fix me.” Ten Cents looked down to the humans examining his hull. 

“Broken rib and a few splintered hull planks.” One of the humans proclaimed. “You’ll be fine with a bit of repair.”

“Great!” Salty seemed even happier about that than Ten Cents. “And I’ll finally have somebody to swap sea stories with.”

Ten Cents couldn’t help but laugh, even as he was lowered back into the dry-dock and set back up on his hull blocks. At least they certainly seemed friendly on this island. 

 

Later that evening, all of the ships (save Ten Cents, who had been transferred to a shipyard for repairs) were gathered at a couple of finger piers that extended out into the bay. On land, a stout brick building had the name “Sodor Maritime Museum” painted across it proudly. And under that, to the surprise of them all; was another, very familiar sign. Apparently, someone had shipped the “Star Tug and Marine” sign all the way from Bigg City, because there it sat. The colors were more vibrant than they had been in years; clearly someone had put some care into it before hanging it up there. 

“I hope you all like it.” A jovial voice drew their attention to an older gentleman standing at the head of the docks. With a neatly pressed uniform and a large white moustache, he made an impressive sight standing there. “We’ll have a new Zero Marine sign finished hopefully tomorrow, it will be hung over at Arlesburgh harbor where you two will be working.” The man nodded at Zebedee and Zorran. 

Triton Star stepped down from Hercules’ deck and stood next to the other man to address the gathered boats. “Everyone, meet Admiral Winslow. He is your new owner, and also runs the Maritime Museum. Stars, you will be managing things here on the south side of the island, particularly Brendam. Z-stacks, you will be based out of the west side of the island, mostly Arlesburgh. Another tug will be here next month to assist you there.”

Well, at least the two groups wouldn’t be forced to collaborate more than necessary. Still, the Star Tugs looked sadly at their Captain. Only now was it really sinking in that they would never see Bigg City again. Never wake up to the sound of their Captain at the megaphone again. 

“Does that mean you’re going back to America now, sir?” Sunshine asked, sorrow clear in his voice. 

Triton went to answer, but was beaten to it by a smiling Admiral Winslow.

“Now lads, I’m not taking your Captain from you. After all, what do I know about running a fleet of tugboats?” The man laughed. “Captain Star will continue to manage your day-to-day activities, I’m just financing it.”

A grin made its way across Triton’s face. “That’s right, you lot can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The Star Tugs all cheered. As long as their Captain was there with them, they could tackle anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this one, folks! Hope everyone enjoyed it.


End file.
